warning

slash implied here. I told you. now take your choices.

author's notes at the end.

 

disclaimer

characters and general situations belong to J.K Rowling & Co.

my eternal gratitude belongs to Andrea for the betaing.

present situations... well, they belong to me.

 

Puppet Theatre

 

Scene 03

 

In which Draco Malfoy has pleasantly wet dreams, Blaise Zabini watches and scribbles, Harry Potter is not himself and students come back to Hogwarts right on time to witness several strange events. Very strange indeed.

 

There are some people that, no matter what, are always able to distinguish reality from dream. Even when deep into a dream, as pleasant as it could possibly be, they would always be able to tell it's just a dream.

 

Draco Malfoy is part of this people. And so, even when sleep surrounds him with a most delicious sheet of illusion, he is always able to tear it apart and wake up, if he wants to, or simply let it be and enjoy the show.

 

Without an apparent reason, that night Draco went for the second option.

 

His dream was impossibly bright and that was how he could clearly recognize Harry Potter moving towards him. The Gryffindor walked casually, his school robe open over his muggle clothes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. He stopped right in front of Draco, smirking and watching at him right in the eyes with his green gaze, open, submissive and... lustful?

 

Draco didn't have the time to think about the last implication because suddenly, with a fluid motion, Harry Potter got on his knees.

 

Draco's answer to that unusual attitude and that strange behaviour was a silent frown. He observed the light shining on Potter's dark hair while the boy firmly looked at the floor. His shoulders appeared tense, contrasting with the sureness he had shown just a minute ago.

 

Draco raised an eyebrow.

 

"Potter. What do you want?" he asked, while, as if it was the most natural thing to do, he pushed a hand through those messy dark locks, enjoying Potter's shiver under his touch.

 

Draco smirked.

 

"I want whatever you want, Draco," the Gryffindor murmured, his voice damn low and trembling. Tempting.

 

"And what do I want, Potter?" Draco inquired, letting transpire a note of amusement in his tone. Potter didn't answer. Not with words. He raised his hands, instead, and placed them on Draco's tights, cautiously, reverentially.

 

Draco's eyes widened. For a while he considered just waking up and stopping the dream. But in the end, curiosity had the best over him and so he ordered himself to relax and keep watching the show.

 

The show of Potter's hands on his trousers, rising until sliding under his shirt. Of green eyes on himself, again, obedient, demanding. Draco said nothing, did nothing. Harry parted his lips. His fingers had found pale soft skin now.

 

Slowly, Harry closed the distance between his mouth and that skin. And, suddenly, everything went warm.

 

Draco’s head jerked violently backwards and in a glimpse of rationality he feared of having snapped his neck.

But everything was so damn -

 

He woke up, grey eyes wide in the darkness, breath caught in his throat.

 

The dormitory was completely silent but he didn't notice it as he listened to his blood rushing in his head. He stared at the ceiling for a while, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down. Then he grabbed his wand from under his pillow and pushed the curtains of his bed open.

 

"Lumos," he murmured and a faint glow lightened the room. He could see the curtains around Blaise bed still drawn.

 

Draco got up and headed for the bathroom, blindly. There, with a spell, he lit up the globes on the wall and approached the sink. He splashed his face with cold water and watched his reflection in the mirror. His eyes appeared liquid and slightly unfocused, dangerously reminding him of another green pair and the way they had stared at him.

 

He found himself shivering at the recent memory, and, as much as he had liked to, he couldn't have said it was in disgust.

 

Not that he minded having fantasies about a boy.

 

He had had more than simply fantasies. He was a Malfoy after all, and as his father and as the father of his father before them, was attracted by beautiful things and pleasant things, two concepts that, in their abstraction and in their realization, didn't need a gender.

 

Draco wasn't foreign to sexual recreations. He had stuck to more experienced and satisfying partners at the beginning. Then he had moved his own steps and now, though young and conscious of having several things to discover on the matter, he had learnt to appreciate "quality nights", as he liked to think about them.

 

But one thing was a young male lover in his bed. One other was Harry Potter haunting his dreams.

 

Draco shook his head, sending drops of water from his slightly wet hair splashing against the mirror. He sighed, and, trying hard to delete Potter's inexplicably pleasant image from his mind, he extinguished the lights and went back to his dormitory.

 

And it was then that, passing by Blaise's bed, he remembered what the other boy had said to him the night in which he had slipped the potion into Potter's drink.

 

The link won't activate immediately. It could pass a while or a whole week before that moment. But you will be able to tell when it'll begin to work. You could feel a strange dizziness. Or warmness. You could have an unexpected sensation. Or a dream...

 

A dream.

 

Draco frowned. Indeed, a week had passed since the New Year night. Blaise and him had checked the cross for magical activity every morning but nothing had happened. Yet.

 

Because now, maybe. Just maybe.

 

Draco approached Blaise's bed and decidedly drew the curtains open.

 

***

 

Harry Potter had never been able to distinguish dreams from reality, even if he would have liked to. His dreams had always had a strong grip on his mind, too strong, to the point that more than once he had feared them to break his conscious. He had long lost the count on how many times he had woken up screaming, or crying, such was the sense of reality that pervaded his nights.

 

And tonight was just one of this cases.

 

His dream was dark. So dark that he couldn't distinguish himself from the surroundings. But he could tell that he wasn't alone. There was a presence there, near him. Inside him. It touched him, caressed him. It excited him and disgusted him. Attracted and repulsed.

 

Harry wanted to wake up. Desperately. But the dormitory was empty and there was no Ron or any other of his mates to shake him out of his uncomfortable state.

 

"Who's there?" he resolved to ask, his voice trembling despite his efforts to keep it steady.

 

"Harry."

 

At the sound of his own name the Gryffindor was invested by a sense of irrational fear. He tried to withdraw, but withdraw from what? A low chuckle made him notice the uselessness of his pathetic attempt.

 

"Harry, Harry."

 

The way his name sounded. So familiar yet so terribly wrong.

 

"Don't run away. You can't."

 

And Harry understood how true those words were as he felt helplessly crushed from an invisible weight suddenly placed on chest. On his will. He tried to scream but his lungs were crushed as well and he was falling unconscious and as the darkness enveloped him more tightly -

 

He woke up.

 

Harry sat bolt upright on his bed, sweating, panting, shaking, staring into empty dark space. His hands held his covers in a desperate grip. The sheets were twisted around his legs. He kicked them away hysterically and rolled out of bed moaning, caught between overwhelming dizziness, headache and nausea. He reached for his glasses, slipped them on and, on unsteady steps, reached for the bathroom.

 

He drank cold water and dried the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his pyjama. His scar looked at him innocently from his reflection on the mirror. Harry frowned and immediately regretted it, as a pang of pain crossed his head just as if an incandescent knitting needle had been drilled into his brain. He leaned against the sink trying to steady himself. And it was then that, to his greatest horror, he clearly felt that that sense of external presence invading him in his dream was still there, as strong as before, as frightening as before.

 

Only damn realer than before.

 

He told himself to fight it, to shake it away. But as he tried the pain in his head overwhelmed him and in the end everything went black again, almost mercifully, for the last time that night.

 

***

 

"I wonder if Harry woke up already," Hermione said as she entered the Great Hall. Students had just come back at Hogwarts and while their trunks were taken care by house elves they were said to have breakfast. Approaching the Gryffindor table, she and Ron immediately noticed that their friend wasn't there yet.

 

"Probably slept in," Ron offered, easily reading Hermione’s confused expression.

"Well, it's half past nine. Let's go calling him," she said with a grin, turning to leave. Ron followed her closely.

 

They had just reached the Fat Lady's portrait when it swung open and Harry came out of it.

 

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, hugging him tightly. "We're back! We missed you so much... How are you?"

 

"Hermione I... am... suff..."

 

She let him go just before he passed out for lack of oxygen. Then she looked at him and frowned.

 

"Harry, what happened to your face?"

 

Harry raised a hand and touched his right cheekbone, hissing as he reached a purple bruise. He sighed.

 

"Tonight I fainted in the bathroom and hit the sink with my face," he explained sulkily.

 

"You fainted? Your scar is hurting? Any dream...?"

 

"No," Harry replied, maybe a little to fast. "No dreams. No dreams about Vol... You-Know-Who," he finished avoiding his friends' inquisitive gazes.

 

Hermione sighed in relief and gave him a tentative smile.

 

"I'm sorry, my wand is still packed inside my trunk. But I'll fix that bruise as soon as I retrieve it. Unless you want to go to Madame Pomfrey,"

 

Harry shook his head quickly and Hermione smiled despite her previous worry.

 

"Well, then. I'll fix it. Now, let's go to breakfast," she said turning on her heels. "It's late. And we still have so many things to do, right Ron?" she called over her shoulder.

 

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes, unseen.

 

"I take it your holiday was wonderful," Harry whispered to Ron.

 

"Yeah, just wonderful," the redhead replied sarcastically. "I couldn't wait to come back," he admitted, finally.

 

"Welcome back then," Harry offered and, snickering, he patted him on the back in mocked comfort, stealing a smile from his friend, as they followed Hermione down the halls.

 

***

 

From the Gryffindor trio's point of view, the breakfast was uneventful. But from two certain Slytherin's point of view, it was just like being researchers studying adverse reactions of a dangerous potion on an unaware guinea pig.

 

In a word, interesting.

 

"Are you sure it's working?" Draco asked in a whisper while buttering his toast.

 

"Mmm..." Blaise answered, nodding slightly, while he scribbled in a sort of notebook.

 

"How can you be sure? He seems perfectly normal in his disgusting Gryffindor way," Draco objected, helping himself to orange marmalade.

 

"Mmm..." Blaise repeated, still completely absorbed in his writings.

 

"Damn, Blaise," Draco hissed in the other boy's ear, startling the distracted Slytherin, who draw a deep line on his parchment.

 

Blaise sighed. Without haste, he closed his notebook, put away his quill and his ink and turned towards Draco.

 

"Draco, we already went over this. I tested signs of magical activity on the cross. It's working and increasingly so. Obviously, the link hasn't reached its strongest pitch yet. It will need sometime."

 

"How will we know when it does?"

 

"We will make some little tests. Just like the one we are going to do this morning. Now, I trust you to know Potter quite well," Blaise pointed out.

"What do you mean?" Draco inquired.

"I mean, all that stuff about 'Know Thy Enemy'... Surely, after sixth years of faithful hate between the two of you, you are one of the maximum experts on the Golden Boy's personality."

 

Draco nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

 

"Now, just think about something that Potter wouldn't do in normal conditions."

 

Draco reflected for a while before replying.

 

"All right. Got it."

 

"Very well. Now, this is our plan. Later, we will casually meet Potter in the hallways. Then you'll think hard about what you would like him to do."

 

"Just think?"

 

"Don't believe it will be easy. Not at all. But with some practice it will become automatic. And in the end, he will do whatever you desire, even if you don't think about it clearly or if not even you know what you desire," Blaise explained.

 

But Draco wasn't really listening anymore. His gaze was firmly settled past the Gryffindor table, on Potter chattering animatedly with his friends.

 

"Well, I can't wait," he stated, softly, his eyes still drawn on the Boy-Who-Lived, showing a dangerous feral glint.

 

Lost in his predatory concentration, he missed Blaise's smirk and his murmured answer.

 

"Me too, I can't wait."

 

***

 

Draco Malfoy would have been royally disappointed knowing that, more often than not, he was the last of Harry Potter's thoughts. And if he wasn't Draco Malfoy he would have understood that, most of the time, the Boy-Who-Lived's mind was occupied by more urgent thoughts, as how to escape Voldemort's insisting grasp and thus become the Boy-Who-Kept-Living-Thanks-God-Luck-Or-What-Else.

 

So, it was forgivable to Harry, that, as he walked down the halls after breakfast with his friends, the thought of Draco Malfoy wasn't even crossing his mind. And things would have stayed that way if, turning around a corner, the trio hadn't met with said Draco Malfoy.

 

"Well, well... look who's here. Weasel, Mudblood and Scarhead," he began. "The Wonder Trio finally reunited."

 

"Malfoy," Ron growled, taking a warning step towards the Slytherin. Immediately, Hermione's hand grabbed her friend's shoulder in order to restrain his famous temper.

 

"What's wrong Weasley? Did you have a short holiday because of money shortage?" Draco inquired with a superior smirk.

 

"At least we had an holiday," Hermione replied, trying her nastiest tone.

 

"Oh, you know, not everybody is good as you in having holiday while leaving a friend back," he said smoothly, obtaining an embarrassed guilty silence from the Gryffindor witch.

 

"As if you know what friends are, ferret!" Ron snapped, advancing again and taking hold of the front of Draco's robe and drawing back his arm, his hand already closed in a dangerous fist.

 

"Ron, stop."

 

Ron's eyes went wide as he turned to look at his friend that until that moment had stood strangely quiet.

 

"Saint Potter has just made a miracle. I feel so special," Draco said in a mocking tone of gratitude.

 

Ron frowned but let him go. Draco straightened his robes before raising his chin proudly and addressing Harry.

 

"You know what, Potter? You should learn to keep your pets on a leash," he suggested kindly, as if they were really discussing about pets care.

 

Ron was shaking in rage at that point and Hermione was trying her best to stop him from smashing Draco's skull against the wall. During the friendly exchange a little crowd had gathered around them and the Gryffindor prefect knew better that let her friend do something drastic in front of several witnesses.

 

"I'm sorry. I'm sure he didn't intend to harm you, Draco," Harry said softly and - truthfully.

 

At that the whole hall went deadly silent.

 

But Harry Potter didn't seem to notice, his eyes fixed on Draco. Draco who, on the other hand, was focused on not to make slip the mask from his face, thus showing his glorious satisfaction and ruining the whole act.

 

"What did you say?" he asked suspiciously, as if he was genuinely surprised by Harry's display of auto-blame as everyone else.

 

"I said I'm sorry, Draco," Harry repeated calmly, sounding so sincere that the stunned silence was broken by few whispers.

 

"I see that despite your low frequentations, you've finally learned how to behave, Potter," Draco pointed out with a smirk. "Congratulations," he added turning on his heels and leaving, closely followed by Blaise.

 

In the background, the previous whispers burst into general chaos.

 

***

 

"Very well. Explain. Now." Ron snapped as soon as he, Hermione and Harry managed to get back to the Gryffindor sixth year male dormitory and slam the door shut.

 

"What the fuck was that?"

 

Harry didn't answer. He looked at the ground, confused.

 

"You could have crawled on you knees and licked his boots. You were on the right way!" Ron muttered, folding his arms over his chest and pacing the room nervously.

 

"Ron... I'm sorry. Look, I don't know what happened. I'm not feeling well and I didn't want to deal with Draco-"

 

"Draco? Since when are you and that piece of scum on first names term basis, Harry?" Ron cut in looking at his friend with a horrified expression.

 

Harry blinked few times, acknowledging the fact that, indeed, he had called Dra- Malfoy Draco.

 

"What's wrong with you, Harry? You're scaring me."

 

Harry couldn't tell if Ron was talking as seriously as his tone suggested. He turned towards Hermione, his gaze pleading for a clue, but Hermione was looking at him puzzled, affected by one of those rare cases in which she found herself at short of words.

 

"I told you. I'm not feel- " Harry tried again, but had to stop soon enough, bringing his hands to his mouth, his eyes wide.

 

He rushed to the bathroom, leaving his friends staring after him confused, wondering what was happening until they clearly heard Harry being sick.

 

"Harry? Are you all right?" Ron called through the door. He was about to turn the knob when it opened and Harry came out, sweaty, pale and looking very much distressed.

 

"Hey mate, what's happened?"

 

Ron was looking at him concerned, the previous argument already dismissed.

 

"I told you. I'm not feeling well. I think I'll lie down for a bit."

 

Harry reached his bed and lay down, not even bothering to take his glasses or his shoes off before drifting into sleep or rather, pass out.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other, searching for the answers that none of them had. Eventually, Hermione bent over Harry and took off his glasses, leaving them on the bedside table before moving to untie his shoes.

 

"Leave. I'll do it," Ron offered untying Harry's left shoe while Hermione tested Harry's damp forehead with her hand.

 

"I think he's a fever," she sighed.

Ron nodded, laying a blanket on his friend as he spoke again: "Maybe we should let him rest for now. And if necessary we'll take him to the infirmary when he wakes up."

 

"You're right. Probably he hasn't slept well these days. Let's not bother him. We can wait in the common room and tell the others. We'll come check him later," Hermione whispered.

 

Finally, as silently as possible they both left, softly closing the door behind their shoulders.

 

***

 

Harry Potter didn't wake up until early the next morning. His mates where still sleeping when he got up. Noticing he was still wearing his clothes, he decided for a shower. Once he was finished with the bathroom, his mates were waking up.

 

"Harry, how are you?" Dean Thomas asked, stretching. "Ron told us you weren't feeling well."

 

"I'm fine now, thanks," he shrugged while drying his hair with a towel.

 

The previous day was a blur. Let alone the previous night. Harry recalled the nightmare he had but it was just a faint shadow in the morning light, and he felt so rested that he was sure that he hadn't dreamed last night. He dressed quickly and went to wake up Ron.

 

"Ron?" Harry shook him lightly. "Wake up." Then harder. "Ron."

 

Ron woke up with a startle: "What? Where? Harry? Nightmare?"

 

Harry smiled, sorting out a meaning in Ron's disconnected words.

 

"No Ron, no nightmares. But we're going to be late for breakfast if you don't move."

 

Ron groaned but eventually he got up and, soon enough, he and Harry were joining Hermione in the common room.

 

"Harry, how are you?"

"Fine. Very rested," he assured, smiling. Hermione smiled back, relaxing.

"I thought so. You slept through all the afternoon."

 

"Now I understand why I feel so hungry. I skipped dinner," he said touching his stomach meaningfully.

 

Ron laughed.

 

"We're going to make up for that at breakfast."

 

"We, Ron?" Hermione asked.

 

"We, Hermione. It would be very impolite of me to let Harry eat all alone."

 

"Very impolite indeed," Hermione replied, but as they walked to the Great Hall, Ron pointedly ignored her amused sarcasm.

 

***

 

Draco Malfoy, instead, wasn't at breakfast that morning. Blaise had left him lying on his bed, caught in a feverish sleep after a whole night of no-stopping headache.

 

"Come on, take these," Blaise had said at six in the morning, when he had woken up and found a very awake Draco tossing and turning in his bed.

 

Without a word, Draco had swallowed the amber liquid, a deep sleep potion, and had passed out almost immediately.

 

Now, sitting alone at the Slytherin table, Blaise observed Harry Potter ingesting an impossible amount of plum cakes. He had noticed that last evening the Gryffindor wasn't at dinner and he had caught words about a sudden sickness.

 

Blaise sighed, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice and writing down in his notebook few lines.

 

His project was going on just fine. Potter's performance yesterday had been a great result. Well, there were some things that could be improved, as the initial adverse reactions, but Blaise had time to work on them.

 

Because, for what he had learnt about Draco in these six years, he was pretty sure that the Slytherin would have needed some time before understanding. Surely more time than Blaise needed to fix the causes of Draco's headache and Potter's illness.

 

Oh yes, when the time would have come, things would have been more than perfect.

 

Blaise was more than sure.

 

***

 

"Are you sure you want to try again?"

 

"Yes."

 

"But you were almost drained the first time. Maybe you should wait a bit more before -"

 

"Blaise. I said I'm going to try now."

 

With this, Draco considered the conversation finished and he pushed the doors of the Great Hall open. He and Blaise reached their places at the Slytherin table and sat down, waiting for lunch to begin.

 

Determined in his purpose, Draco raised his gaze to a certain spot at the Gryffindor table.

 

He stared at a certain black messy head until its owner raised his gaze and met Draco's.

 

The Slytherin smirked earning a confused glance from Potter, before turning his attention to the just appeared meal. Draco casually filled his plate began to eat slowly. Then, calmly, he turned towards Blaise.

 

"Look," he said and lowered his gaze on his plate.

 

***

 

"Harry?"

 

Hermione looked puzzled at her friend, who was staring at his plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

 

"Harry what -" she began but she stopped suddenly as Harry got up so quickly that he sent his chair falling backwards with a loud noise that caught everybody's attention.

 

"Where are you going?" Ron inquired.

 

Harry didn't answer. He just stepped over the chair and walked away. Towards the Slytherin table.

 

The Hall fell silent, every student watching the scene with feelings that went from curiosity to confusion to open concern, as in Hermione and Ron's case.

 

Only Draco Malfoy kept staring at his plate, at least until Harry Potter spoke. Right to him.

 

"Draco."

 

"Yes?"

 

"You weren't at breakfast this morning. I wondered how you were doing."

 

"Quite well, Potter. And you? Does this uncalled concern of yours mean that you finally lost it?"

 

With this, Draco Malfoy exhibited a feral smile.

 

Harry Potter stared at him, blankly, and said nothing.

 

Blaise Zabini smirked and for once didn't write anything on his notebook.

 

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stared at each other flabbergasted.

 

And the Hall erupted in furious chatter. Two days into the new term and there was something to talk about, already.

 

***

To Be Continued

 

Scene 04

 

In which Draco Malfoy is perfectly satisfied of himself, Hogwarts students get more to talk about, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley simply don't understand, Blaise Zabini looks from shadows, Severus Snape is finally given a good reason to take points from Gryffindor and Harry Potter tries to give a logical explanation to his unusual behaviour. Failing.